“White Christmas”

Wynne

Being from Florida, I’d only seen snow a handful of times in my life, and never like this. It came down like giant puffs of cotton, blanketing the ground, streets, and houses. It was both beautiful and magical, almost soul healing in its peacefulness. I wasn’t crazy about Denver, but I absolutely loved Aspen. Sighing, I gazed around the room. I especially loved this house. Vaulted ceilings soared over my head while lustrous wooden floors sat at my feet. There were five bedrooms, each with its own bath, a kitchen nicer than any I’d ever seen, and floor to ceiling windows with breathtaking views. Sander called it a cottage, but it was more like a castle to me. Believe me, I was no princess, but I felt like one. At least, Sander made me feel like one.

Closing my eyes, I let my mind wander over the past four days. Sander had definitely made good on his promise. We’d christened every room in this house, and then some. The man wasn’t just a rock god, he was a sex god. From blindfolds to crazy kinky positions I’d never heard of, we’d tried it all. Although the sex was out of this world incredible, it was the man himself who’d captured my heart. Of course, I’d never tell him this. I was totally, absolutely, insanely in love with Sander James and he didn’t even know it. Before this week in Aspen, I was already halfway there, but somewhere between the plane ride and our trek into the woods to chop down the tree—which resulted in a bout of hilariously crazy snow sex—I’d fallen the rest of the way.

Yesterday, we put the finishing touches on the tree. Or I should say, I put the finishing touches while Sander serenaded me. Holy shit! The man could play the piano, and I’m not just talking kind of. He was so good that it was awe inspiring, but it was his voice that most impressed me. Hearing him on the radio, surrounded by his fellow band members and various musical instruments was one thing, but listening to Sander’s voice when it was stripped down and accompanied by a simple guitar or piano, was entirely another. It was raw and powerful, multilayered in both range and depth. It was one of those voices that made your heart fly yet could also bring tears to your eyes.

A couple of times this week, we’d even played together. Can I say mind-blown? Someone needed to pinch me. I wasn’t standing on a random stage, playing the ratty, used guitar I’d purchased from the local music store in nowheresville Florida. I was in a famous rock star’s personal music room, playing his favorite guitar, which I might add was fucking amazing, while singing some of his favorite songs—the same rock star, who not fifteen minutes prior to this, had been deep inside me. Only, he wasn’t just a rock star to me. He was a man—a man I’d fallen in love with. I should be happy, right? It was Christmas day and tomorrow we would be on a plane back to Denver. The rest of my life was waiting for me there. I had one performance left. One more win and everything I’d worked so hard for would finally be mine. The thing is, I didn’t want to go back. I wasn’t stupid. I knew what Sander was doing. He was attracted to my unjaded naiveté. He wanted to dirty me up without ruining me. I was a toy to him. A toy that he was going to love and leave, and I was going to let him.

“Are you ready?” he called from somewhere in the house.

Quickly wiping the tears from my face, I responded, “I’m ready!” Instead of opening presents in the morning, we’d opted to open them this evening. This gave me all day to work on his present as well as prepare a special Christmas dinner for us.

Sander, with the gorgeous smile that I’d come to cherish, the smile shared rarely with anyone else, but had appeared all week for me, walked in carrying his favorite guitar. Around the neck sat a huge, red, lopsided bow.

“Merry Christmas,” he sheepishly murmured...and I burst into tears. Shoving the guitar aside, he dropped to his knees at my feet and pulled me onto his lap. “Is it too much?” he asked.

Shaking my head, I sobbed, “It’s perfect. This, you, all of it is just perfect.” I didn’t have to say more, because he knew. We both did. I was in love with a man who couldn’t love me back. Lifting me onto my feet, he took my hand, and said, “Come.”

“But your gift.”

“It can wait.” He led me across the room, up the grand staircase, and into his bedroom. The glow from the fire cast shadows across the bed. Slowly, Sander stripped the clothes from my body. We’d had more sex in the past four days than I’d had in my entire life, but this...I had no words for. He didn’t enter me fast. He didn’t play me with his fingers or his tongue. He simply shed his clothes and crawled onto the bed beside me. Instinctively, I turned to him.

“I feel it, too, Baby Girl,” he whispered. My eyes smarted at the endearment I’d once hated but had come to love. “But...” he continued.

Before he said the words that would change everything, I placed my fingers over his lips, and whispered, “Don’t.” With a nod of understanding, he pressed a kiss on the palm of my hand.

One by one, I traced my fingers over his lips, stroking them across his beard, and circling them around his ear. Gently, I slid them into his hair and pulled his lips to mine. The kiss was slow and erotically charged yet tender. Where I took, he gave. Our tongues tangled together as our fingers danced across each other’s bodies, touching, feeling, stroking, loving each other. By the time he sank inside me we were both on fire, our nerve endings lit up like live wires of want...begging for release. It was heartbreakingly beautiful, my way of saying I love you and his way of telling me goodbye. With our arms entwined and our bodies as close as two people could get, we came together, him shouting my name and me groaning his.

“Merry Christmas, Wynne,” he whispered against my neck.

I love you, I thought, but responded, “Merry Christmas, Sander.”

We dressed and finally finished opening gifts. Sander seemed moved by the photo album I’d made for him. He studied each picture with a smile on his face. Neither of us were in the mood for food, so we traipsed back upstairs, stripped off our clothes, and crawled back into bed. Instead of sex, we did something we’d done very little of all week, we talked. Sander touched briefly on his drug addict mother and his deadbeat dad. What he didn’t talk about, was his time with Indigo Road. That is, other than to say that they were better off apart than together.

The next afternoon, on the plane ride back to Denver, we discussed the upcoming finale. Ferris and I would be singing three songs each. The first was a song chosen by the judges. The second was a song we’d written, and the third was a duet with our coach. This meant Sander and I would be singing together. The conversation didn’t go very far, partially because neither of us was really into it, but mostly because of Sander’s roaming hands. After asking the same question three times, I gave up and tackled him to the sofa. It didn’t take long before we were both naked and he was inside me. Unlike last night, this wasn’t soft, gentle lovemaking, but a brutal release of pent up energy...a finale of sorts. What it wasn’t, was empty. Sex with Sander was never empty. It was a high that no drug could top. A high that filled me to the point of bursting. It was...everything.

The drive back to the studio was quiet. Right as we hit the parking lot, Sander let out a frustrated sounding growl. I turned to see what was wrong and gasped when his lips painfully clashed with mine. Tongue and teeth, he gave it his all and didn’t stop until the limousine pulled in front of the building.

“Thank you for giving me the best Christmas ever,” he whispered, and with a pull of the handle, he was out the door. I blinked back the tears as I watched him walk away.

Five hours later, I was lying on my bed listening to songs and trying to choose the perfect one for the finale, when my phone pinged with a text from Sander.

Meet me in my trailer.

My heart raced in my chest. Was he in trouble? Did something happen? I thought about asking but then reconsidered. The last thing we needed was a text chain proving that something had happened between us.

Okay, I typed back. Then thought, Shit, my hair! I realized this made no sense. Sander had seen me naked and without makeup, but this was different. We were no longer lovers but were back to being coach and contestant. Back to existing under the same professionally stilted pretenses as before. Pulling my hair into a stylish looking ponytail, I dusted on a little makeup, glossed my lips, slid on my shoes, and headed for the door. Thankfully, I didn’t run into anyone on the way to Sander’s trailer. I had to admit, I was a little worried about Jayne. I swear, the woman had eyes in the back of her head.

“Come in!” I heard him call out when I knocked on the door. I’d barely made it inside, when I found myself shoved against the wall and a very impressive erection pressing against my stomach. His lips descended on mine as he flipped down the lock. It took a minute for my brain to catch up with my body.

“Sander—” I gasped. His lips were back on mine, and instead of questioning him like I wanted, I just went with it. In a flash, our clothes were off, and with my back pressed flat against the trailer wall and my legs wrapped around his waist, he entered me. Like every other time, it was perfect, as if he belonged inside me.

“I thought I could do this.” He panted between thrusts. “I tried to do the right thing, to walk away, but all I can think about is being with you.” His words were too much, and I shouted his name as the orgasm roared through me.

“Fuck!” he barked, his brown eyes devouring me. “Five hours,” he rasped. “Five hours where all I could do was think of you, of us, of the past five days and how nothing makes sense unless I’m balls deep inside you.” I could feel my pulse pounding in my ears. Is he saying what I think he is?

I waited for him to lower me to my feet, before responding. “But...I thought you said—”

“Forget what I said.”

“But...what about Jayne? If we get caught—”

“We won’t get caught. I’ll make sure of it. If Jayne asks, give her nothing. The same with anyone else. I’ll send the texts. You respond with a yes or a no.” Oh, God. Were we really going to do this? “Get dressed, Baby Girl. I’ll try to visit you later tonight, but probably won’t be able to get to you until sometime after practice tomorrow.” My mind spun as I bent down to retrieve my clothes. I was pulling on my pants when I felt Sander’s hand on the back of my neck. “You want this, right? Because if you don’t, now’s the time to tell me.” This was crazy. This was exciting. This was...insane, but damn if I was going to put a stop to it.

“I want this,” I quickly responded, my face flushing with embarrassment at how breathy and desperate I sounded. His lips split into a smile...and then he kissed me.